Stockings and Suspenders
by Yggdrasil'sRoots
Summary: Steve meets Darcy after the battle of New York. And all he can notice is her socks.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm going to write so much for this. I cant promise any schedule for it, but there'll be loads, honestly!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the avengers.**_

So, Steve has this problem.

His problem isn't exactly normal, if there even is a normal for a guy who spent seventy years frozen and unconscious.

His problem is Darcy Lewis's clothes.

Yes, it's weird.

It isn't particularly the clothes alone, it's the clothes on _Darcy._

The clothes on Darcy and they way she's so...Darcy, in them. He can't quite describe it, but it leaves him a little bit breathless, and a lot distracted.

He can remember the first time he met her. It was just after the battle of New York, and he was covered in rubble dust, sore and exhausted, mourning Coulson and relieved that he could sleep for about a week.

She had obviously just woken up, and he would later find out that she had hopped a S.H.I.E.L.D quinjet to help out, even if helping was just feeding some tired, hungry heroes.

She was wearing sweatpants, fluffy socks, and a loose, slouchy sweater that was falling off one shoulder.

Oddly enough it was the socks, more than anything, that caught his attention; neon, and covered in pink sheep, with googly eyes on her toes. He couldn't stop staring at them, which he knew partly stemmed from his sleep deprived state, and partly from the fact that they were the brightest, most colourful socks he had ever seen.

It was only when she placed a chilly hand on his arm that he realised everyone else had gone to bed, and he was standing staring at a girl he had just met, with very peculiar socks.

"Captain Rogers? Are you okay?"

"Your socks are very bright." He blurted. In the back of his mind, someone who sounded very much like Bucky was calling him an idiot, and he grimaced.

"Yeah, I like a little colour. Makes everything a little happier, even when it isn't happy, don't you think?" She didn't question his odd conversation opener, but led him to the kitchen, where she proceeded to bustle around, grabbing the kettle and filling it up, setting it to boil and then opening a cupboard she could barely reach, to try and get two mugs down.

Stretching up on her tiptoes, she made tiny frustrated noises as she tried to reach the shelf. Without even realising he was moving, Steve leaned over her shoulder and fetched a green mug with a yellow bird on it and a plain white one down, setting them on the counter for her. Beaming at him, she spooned powder into both mugs, and nudged him towards his bedroom.

"Go shower and get into something that doesn't have half a building in it." She said gently. He stumbled into his room, stripped and showered on autopilot, and donned stripy pyjama pants and a t-shirt. When he returned, Darcy had migrated to the sofa, and was clutching her mug tightly, the other mug on the table in front of her. He sank into the plushy couch, and she nudged the mug closer to him.

Picking it up, he peered at the contents, and smiled.

Hot cocoa.

Sipping it, he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Good?" She asked quietly.

He nodded.

"Tastes like my momma used to make it." He told her, equally quietly. He sipped it again, mentally catapulted back to his childhood and the warm chocolate drink his mother would give him on his birthday, halfway through the winter, even though they were barely scraping by. Then she died, and Bucky made a point to always find some, even during the war, when rations did not include luxury items such as hot chocolate.

"I'm glad." She drank her own drink, comfortable in the sleepy silence.

He wondered why she would do this for someone she had just met, and voiced his thought.

"Because you needed someone to, Captain."

"Please, call me Steve." He had no other response, only the thought that she was the most genuine person he had ever met. She smiled at him over the rim of her mug, and they sat in quietude, drinking their hot chocolate, and yawning. Steve set his empty mug down, glancing over at the girl he had just met, grinning at her dozing form. Removing her mug from its precarious perch atop her thigh, and carrying both over to the sink, he rinsed them out, and then paused.

"Jarvis? Where's Darcy's room?"

"Opposite your own bedroom, sir. Might I suggest leaving her night light on?"

"Thank you, Jarvis." He still felt odd talking to thin air, but his mother raised him with manners, even if his conversational partner was an artificial intelligence.

Returning to the couch, he very gingerly scooped the now sleeping Darcy into his arms, and carrying her to her bedroom.

Laying her down, he pulled the duvet over her and switched the night light on her bedside table on. Turning to leave, he started as her small hand grasped his wrist.

"Thanks, Steve." She mumbled sleepily. He smiled.

"Goodnight, Darcy." He left, closing the door quietly behind him, and crossed the hall to his own room, sliding into bed, and drifting off to sleep with those bright socks dancing through his head.


	2. Chapter 2

_**MORE!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own stuff. Ugh.**_

The second time that Steve and Darcy run into each other, it is at one of Tony's parties. A big, lavish affair, in a big, lavish ballroom, that Steve hates and wishes he were anywhere else.

He is stuffed into his military dress uniform, slightly too warm, with a glass of champagne that, even were he minded that way, will not get him drunk.

He'd rather have a beer, but Tony insisted that champagne is the way to go at these sort of things.

At least he doesn't have to make a speech tonight.

He and Bruce are standing in a corner, sending furtive glances at Pepper, who they know will force them into dancing with some trust fund barbie doll brat at the first chance she gets, and desperately ducking the advances of women over Bruce's age, and less than half of Steve's, if he is counting the time he spent frozen.

Some random duchess that Tony's probably hooked up with in the past is leaning up against the table, openly displaying her cleavage for all to see, and trying to cajole Steve into dancing with her, when Darcy rocks up and plants a kiss on his cheek. The duchess's mouth falls open and she storms off in a huff.

Which of course, had been Darcy's intention.

Bruce is trying, and failing not to laugh, and casts a small wave at the pair of them, leaving and heading straight for the bar.

"Wretched bitch. All she wants is to get in your very crisp pants, Cap." Steve mutters something uncomplimentary under his breath. Darcy giggles.

"I think people forget you were a soldier." She sniggers, and covers her bright red lips with a dainty hand. Steve grins, and sips his champagne. Running his eyes over Darcy, he first clocks the deep red velvet of her dress, which would be tacky on anyone but her. Then he zones in on the way it gathers under her bust, and the elbow length sleeves, then flicks his eyes down to the hem at knee level. Tall burgundy heels adorn her feet, bringing her just about level with his chin.

And now he's going to think about anything but the way the material clings to Darcy's curves, and exposes her cleavage, that is somehow classy.

"Nice dress." He says.

"Thanks. Pepper picked it." Darcy wrinkles up her nose adorably and he bites back a chuckle.

"Well, it suits you." She smiles at him, then downs her flute of champagne. He pans his gaze across the room.

"Shit. Miss moneybags is coming back." Darcy says, following his gaze.

Before he can take a breath, his glass is on the table and he and Darcy are spinning across the dance floor gracefully. His mother taught him to waltz as a child, so the steps are ingrained in his muscle memory, and Darcy is keeping up with him, one small hand burning through his uniform, and the other clasped in his own large hand. Darcy shoots him a massive smirk when they make a pass past the duchess, who pouts and flounces off to the bar to be comforted by her husband.

They stay on the floor for the next few songs, conversing easily, and swaying comfortably together, until Pepper forces him to dance with some random woman, who thankfully, isn't as awful as the other, and then another, who is worse.

When he finally gets free of her vice like grip and escapes to the bar, he runs into Tony, who is pleasantly sloshed.

"Steven! How're you?" He slurs happily.

"Pepper made me dance with Lady Kate." Tony winces.

"Eesh. I danced with her once. She pinched my ass and told me I was a nice young boy. Bad luck, capsicle." Tony saunters off, presumably to find Pepper, before Steve could ask him where Darcy was. Clint fills the space as soon as he blinked, and leans against the bar, martini in hand, and Natasha at his elbow.

"She's on the balcony."

The spies promptly vanish.

"Right." Steve says to himself, and makes his way towards the balcony. He finds Darcy leaning against the stonework, purse abandoned on the bench, champagne in hand.

"Hey Steve-o." She is sipping her champagne and gazing out over the gardens.

He leans next to her and waits.

"I danced with a fat bald man, who couldn't leave my ass alone and smelled of gone off cheese!" She spat out suddenly.

He scowled.

"Would you like me to kill him for you?" Darcy throws back her head and laughs.

"Funny, that's what Natasha and Clint said. What did I do, that I have professional badasses offering to commit murder for me, after two meetings?"

Steve thinks.

"You're Darcy." He says simply. She blushes, and looks at her shoes. "Wanna get out of here? I came on my bike." She glances up and nods.

They run right through the middle of the ballroom, attracting some puzzled stares, hop on Steve's bike and drive back to the tower, where they proceed to get into pyjamas, Steve stares at Darcy's socks again(they're blue and have cats on today) and they watch movies until they fall asleep on the over comfy sofa.

thumbs4.e baystatic d/l225/m/mqokWdPs TMhA _**Darcy's dress**_

_**Enjoy, lovely people.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**LATE NIGHT WRITING. Really it's more morning at this point, being about five AM. Whoops.**_

_**There isn't a huge amount of this, but what I do have, I like so there.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, really, other than my over active imagination.**_

Steve and Darcy are firm friends after the experience at Tony's gala, ball, do, thing, and proceed to spend a lot of time together, bonding over Lady Kate's awfulness, and laughing outright when a news story covers her subsequent scandalous divorce after Tony's do, as it appears it wasn't just Steve she was haranguing, but Clint, Tony, and Bruce, who wryly jokes she narrowly missed a run in with the other guy.

At least Steve _thinks_ he is joking.

A week after the ball, she sits him down and they have a Lord of the Rings marathon, and Darcy insists that they watch the extended editions. Since he just about managed to read some before he was iced, he agrees with little arguing, and they settle in for the ride. About ten minutes into the first movie, Tony wanders in and sits down, watching quietly.

They stare. Tony is never quiet.

Darcy wriggles her yellow, bee covered toes under Steve's thigh. He pats her cheery socks fondly, and they grin as the rest of the team gradually trickle in over the course of the first movie, Clint dropping from an air vent, Natasha gracefully tucking herself under Bruce's arm as he sips his tea, Pepper and Jane dragging Thor with them, with no trouble as Thor likes tv.

A lot.

Phil pops up, and toes off his shoes, then squirms in next to Clint, a sight Darcy thought she would never see. Then she spots the tan lines on both men's ring fingers and makes the connection. Smiling, she draws a love heart in the air around them, grinning when Clint sticks his tongue out childishly. Maria even drops in, though an emergency calls her in halfway through Rohan, and she only returns when Shelob is wrapping Frodo in her web.

The relaxed atmosphere is nice, and several interns, running errands around the tower, look extremely confused as they spot the superheroes and company lying around, usually on each other.

Legs tangle together(Natasha, Pepper and Maria), fingers are interlinked(Steve and Darcy, and Natasha and Bruce, as well as Tony, Pepper and Thor), heads rest on shoulders(Clint, nodding off on his husband's shoulder, and Bruce, dozing on Natasha) and part way through the third movie, everyone but Steve is asleep.

And all through it, Darcy socks have been visible in his periphery.


End file.
